Dreams & Nightmares
by dfriendly
Summary: Voldemort won the war, all Order members dead, captured, or in hiding. Hermione is in Azkaban, until Malfoy makes her his servant, subjecting her to a cruel nightmare. Can Hermione escape? Will the Order reunite & overthrow the new regime? Warnings inside
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** The Death Eaters won the war; all Order members are dead, captured, or in hiding. Hermione is in Azkaban, until Malfoy makes her his servant, subjecting her to a horrible nightmare. Can Hermione escape? Will the Order ever reunite and overthrow the new regime?

**A/N:** Some general info as to lessen confusion: this takes place in an AU as of the 7th book (& minus some redeeming qualities of Malfoy that surfaced in book 6). The idea came to me before the 7th had come out, but just got to writing it now. So I have used some general plotlines from book 7 (horcruxes destroyed; battle Hogwarts-- only Harry didn't come back out of the Forest & people had to escape on their own. And now Voldy & his DEs are still in charge). Don't want to give too much away or end up repeating myself, so hopefully any questions you have will be worked out.

**Disclaimer:** Characters and some background plot points are not mine, but J.K.'s—you know this.

**Warning:** This story contains violence, some language, character-death (mentioned), sex, and non-consensual sex. Also, Draco is not a nice person in this story. (someone has to be the villain. He makes it personal.)Therefore, there is no happy Dramione ending (but maybe for Hermione). So if you are offended by rape, Evil!Draco, etc., don't read.

*btw- the person Malfoy is looking for the beginning isn't important. They're just a plot device.

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**Chapter 1**

Draco Malfoy couldn't help but think this task was beneath him. He might be younger than most of his fellow Death Eaters, but he was also smarter and more competent. This job was worthy of some useless lackey, not him. But he had been given orders, and he knew better than to argue.

He was given a picture and the orders to go to Azkaban and find the person in that picture. Some Mudblood woman —Azkaban was mostly full of Mudbloods these days— and she no doubt had information that they needed. It didn't really matter to him.

He was to check every cell, and compare them to the photo. But the trouble was that in Azkaban, everyone starts to look alike. That's what the place does to you. Ratty hair, tattered clothes, grubby skin, shrunken bodies... even a person's sex is sometimes indeterminable.

He had been at this for an hour or more, and the Patronus that protected him was growing weaker out of frustration. But as he jerked back the head of one sleeping female prisoner, a spark of satisfaction caused his Patronus to strengthen a fair deal.

_Granger._

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In Azkaban Hermione had discovered early on that sleep was an easy escape. Although her dreams were tormented and grim, they were better than her conscious nightmares. In dreams, the pain was subdued, and thoughts flowed freely from one affliction to the other. But when awake, her usually logical mind made crazy leaps and bounds that frightened her.

And it was during one of her bleaker dreams that a forgotten feeling of tranquility surprised her. The shock of it must have called her awake, as she was vaguely aware of her cell door opening, and someone nearing her. Rough hands tugged on the back of her head and she groggily opened her eyes to meet cold eyes and a familiar smirk.

_Malfoy._

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"Fancy seeing you here, Granger. I'd forgotten that you were supposed to be in this Hell-hole."

She jerked her head away, but didn't reply. She merely glared at him through narrowed eyes, with her mouth forming silent questions.

Determined to get some response from her, he continued.

"But, I can't help but be surprised that no one Cursed you. You were one of Potter's little friends… I suppose they didn't consider you much of a threat, being a Mudblood, and all."

Although he expected her to rebuke him, he noticed that the name of her dead friend had merely caused her to swallow and try to suppress a look of fear.

"You know, you've caused me an awful lot of problems through the years, Granger. Even after Potter finally snuffed it, you and your stupid Order had to make things difficult for us, but no matter..." He paused to work up a sneer. "One of the real annoyances is that between you and Potter, I haven't been able to keep a house-elf for years. Imagine me, a powerful Death Eater, unable to secure a house-elf just because some Mudblood gets them to start thinking for themselves-"

He had finally coaxed something out of her. She actually smiled slightly, in spite of herself. "Well, trust some pureblood bastard to not understand a little thing like equality," she retorted croakily.

He relinquished the hold on her hair more forcibly, dragging her head upward with each word. "Equality?" he snarled. "You think you're going to give me some speech on equality when you're the one here rotting away? Wrong, Granger. Come to think of it, I don't think this is punishment enough for you. Sitting here like some kind of saint, taking solace in being a martyr? I think not. With any luck, you're gonna get what you really deserve and I'll see to that personally."

He threw her to the floor and left before she could say anything. The comfort of his Patronus faded as he moved farther down the corridor, along with her courage.

She couldn't help but suspect that things would only get worse.

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Also, third chapter and beyond will be longer, & ANs should no longer amount to 1/4 of the chapter.

Review, please.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The Dementors were famed for making you 'feel like you'd never be happy again', but after a few weeks, Hermione found that they did far more than that. In fact, her mind would often taunt her with happy memories, just to tear through them with terrible ones. She would drown in the horrors of all that had happened, and sometimes even accuse herself of it all being her fault.

So when she woke one day with the forgotten feeling of lying on a mattress, she assumed that her mind was playing tricks on her again. Many times she'd woken up thinking she was at Hogwarts, the Burrow, Grimmauld Place, or even her old Muggle room. Perhaps her dreams were taking their cruelty one step further. She would surely open her eyes to find herself on the cold stone floor of her dank cell.

But when she finally convinced herself to open her eyes, she was surprised to learn she wasn't imagining the mattress. She wasn't even in the cell that she had occupied for the past few months.

The room was some type of cell, but presumably not one in Azkaban —her mind was clear of the Dementors' influence. The room didn't have any windows, besides a barred one at the heavy wooden door, and was lit by two magical torches.

But the most startling difference between her old cell and this new one was that this one had some sparse furnishings. The thin mattress where she lay was on a simple metal bed frame and beside it was a plain bedside table. Across the room were a wooden chair and a worn wardrobe.

She got off the bed and hesitantly tried the door. It was locked, which didn't really surprise her. She peered out the bars in the door, but besides a similar torch that lit the empty hallway, she saw nothing.

She was confused as to how she was here. Or more importantly, _why_ she was here. She had a hard time putting thoughts together. While around the Dementors, it was impossible to think with much clarity, and her mind was still a little foggy.

Finding no answers to her questions, she decided to take a better inventory of her surroundings. She went back to the bed and lifted the mattress. Finding nothing besides some rusty bedsprings, she decided to move on to the freestanding wardrobe.

The wood of the wardrobe was old and warped so that its only door didn't fit in its frame properly. Her fingers grazed the handle, hesitant to open it. Could there be something dangerous in it? But curiosity got the better of her and she pulled the door open.

All she found was a single dress hanging limply and formlessly on the clothing rod. She opened the door farther, a little disappointed in her spoils, only to discover a mirror on the inside of the door. It was covered with a thin layer of grime, giving the reflection an even grimmer appearance. There was also a noticeable crack that ran diagonally down the center. But before she could angle the door to look at herself, she heard approaching footsteps and quickly shut the door.

When she turned around, her door was opening to reveal none other than Draco Malfoy. She stood frozen as a smirk slowly grew on his face. How could she have forgotten? He had come to her cell weeks ago, promising hell for her, but it had somehow gotten lost in her mind.

"Morning, Granger. You look surprised to see me."

She tried to put on a facet of bravery and wet her lips. "Well, you've always been a big talker, Malfoy, but with nothing to ever to back it up."

But his smirk didn't falter. He knew what she was trying to do, and it wasn't going to work on him. "You know, you talk rather big yourself, but it's not going to do you much good here… Because I'm the one in control, Granger, not you. You're quite at my disposal."

She swallowed but refused to alter her gaze. "And what exactly do you have in store for me?" she said quietly.

"Not much…for now," he added, pleased to see some fear on her face. "You remember me telling you of my plight to find a willing house-elf? Well, being that you are the one responsible for that, I decided that you will serve as a replacement for one —"

"I knew you were a less than mediocre wizard, Malfoy, but I'd think that even you could take care of yourself."

His lip curled menacingly. "That's something that a Mudblood like you will never understand, Granger, that a wizard of any social standing deserves to have something at his beck-and-call. It's not a matter of the capability to do things, so much as the principle of having something else do it _for_ you."

Hermione ground her teeth at his blatant arrogance. But she couldn't let him win.

"So is this the manor of yours you always bragged about in school?" she asked, eager to change gears. "Because I have to say, you could use a decorator."

Malfoy laughed. "Actually, it's my own manor. Not as big, but still respectable. This is the dungeon, which is where _you'll_ be staying."

He eyed the wardrobe behind her, thats door had not shut in her haste to close it. "So, I see you've already found your new uniform."

He moved near her and reached behind her, his body moving in closely to hers, but she refused to back away. This close* to her, she realized how much larger he was than her. The last she had seen of him, besides his visit in Azkaban, he had been just a skinny teenager. But now his shoulders had broadened and he had grown taller, and she realized that he had even more of an advantage over her than possession of a wand.

"Here," he said throwing the dress at her, "change into this." The 'uniform' was in the same style as most house elf clothes, this time a bedsheet fashioned into a basic frock. He walked back to the door, leaving it open. "But before you do, there's a washroom upstairs for you to bathe. 'Cause even for a Mudblood— you stink."

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**Review**,please!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's reminder**: This is your second and final warning. Contains violence and non-consensual sex. You have been warned.

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**Chapter 3**

Hermione wouldn't have been a Gryffindor if she hadn't considered flat-out refusing to act as Malfoy's house-elf. -- But she also knew better.

Unlike Harry and Ron, who ruled with their hearts, Hermione was less rash. And she knew that it would be wiser to wait for the right circumstances, in the meantime going along with what Malfoy said. She knew her chance would come. But_ not_ cooperating would narrow those chances.

So she'd wait.

In order to escape, she would need a wand. Malfoy had taken all the magical precautions to keep her from breaking out of his house, and only magic could reverse them. After a week, Hermione had established that when Malfoy's wand wasn't on him, it was locked in his desk drawer. The drawer, Hermione discovered, only opened by the muttering of some password. Attacking him physically or wrestling his wand away from him had occurred to her, but both, she decided would get her nowhere. Without a wand, she stood no chance against him.

Nearly two months passed of just waiting. Hermione silently did what she was told and fulfilled her duties as a house-elf without causing Malfoy any problems. But despite Hermione's constant vigilance (as Mad-Eye had preached), she had yet to see her window of opportunity and was growing impatient.

Perhaps the most unsettling thing was not her lack of action against him, but his lack of action against her. At Azkaban he had threatened to make her punishment worse than it had been in prison. But her existence at his house was hardly a comparison. She had expected the Cruciatus Curse or some other magic to be used on her, but so far she was treated better than what she had heard about Dobby. Was this really_ all_ Malfoy had in store for her? _No_, she'd think. Something else had to be coming. And that feeling of foreboding was torturing her.

Hermione had every reason to be suspicious. Malfoy, too, was wondering what his next plan of action against her was. And it was this thought that was turning in his head one night when Hermione arrived at his room with dinner.

Malfoy didn't turn away from the work on his desk as he heard her enter. "Good, you're here. I've spilt ink on the floor."

Hermione looked at the broken bottle on the floor, no doubt knocked deliberately off the desk. The stain appeared hours old, as the ink had already dried, sunken into the wooden floor. These were the types of childish games he played: make a mess that could easily be fixed with magic, and order her to take care of it instead. It was immature, tedious, and exasperating,… although Hermione preferred it to other possibilities.

Once she had returned with a bucket and brush, Malfoy had put aside his work and was most the way through with his dinner.

"I think I much prefer the house-elves' cooking to yours, Granger. Either you have a plan of slowly poisoning me to death, or you're quite useless without magic."

"If you're going to complain, then make it yourself, Malfoy," she said and knelt onto the floor. "Lord knows how you managed before I came along."

While Hermione pointlessly scrubbed the stain on the floor, Malfoy had turned in his chair to be able to watch her.

Without looking up, Hermione could sense his eyes on her. He unnerved her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "_Must_ you scrutinize my cleaning like that? I don't know what you think I might do."

"Well, I know what you _plan_ to do: Escape. I've seen the wheels turning in your head ever since you got here. But you can't come up with a plan. It's driving you _mad_." Malfoy paused to take another bite of his dinner. "The Genius Granger, without any ideas."

"How do you know I don't have a plan?" she said coolly. There was no point in denying her objective.

"You don't." He paused. "And even if you did, it wouldn't matter. There's no escaping."

"But I'm intelligent, Malfoy. You might never admit it, but you know that I'm much more intelligent than you."

Malfoy's jaw hardened out of annoyance. "Not clever enough, Granger. You weren't clever enough to leave the country when the Dark Lord was coming to power and you weren't clever enough to give up on your precious Order once we'd taken over. Now look at yourself. We've won, Granger, so why don't you just give it up?"

Hermione struggled to keep her breathing even as she continued scrubbing. "What's with all this 'we' business? I don't remember you ever doing anything.--"

"I've done plenty, Granger," he snapped.

"--You think that you're so important and cherished by your fellow pure-bloods, and so powerful and threatening to the rest of us. But you're not, Malfoy."

Malfoy stood up. "I can be plenty damn threatening."

"Please," getting to her feet as well, she said, "it's hard to feel threatened by a git like you. You're talentless and dim, no better than the rest of you Death Eaters." The words were spilling out of Hermione's mouth before she could stop herself, her voice steadily rising in volume. Malfoy's anger was evident in his increasing sneer, his reaction only spurring her on. "You expect some kind of special treatment, but you're just another pawn in your master's game. You think you deserve recognition. You want attention. It's the same as in school. You were just jealous of Harry's fame. But he'll be more renowned in his death than you can _ever_ accomplish alive. You're _nobody_."

"I'm warning you, Granger."

"What are you going to do, Malfoy? When will you realize that I'm not afraid of you?"

"I'll_ make_ you afraid of me," he snarled.

"I'd like to see you try. No matter what you do, it won't change what you are. You're _nothing,_ Malfoy."

As soon as the last words left her mouth, a sheering pain shot through the left side of her face. He had slapped her, the resounding crack still hanging in the room's silence.

Hermione's mouth hung open out of shock and pain. As her hand gingerly felt her cheek, all she could do was stare at him in disbelief. Malfoy was livid, his chest heaving and eyeing her strangely. Hermione wasn't sure what the look in his eyes was, but it gave her a bad feeling. Her heart was beating very fast; now she really was frightened.

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the waist and threw her backwards onto his bed. It happened so fast that her scream was a delayed reaction. She twisted onto her stomach to try to crawl off the other side of the bed, but soon felt his body on top of her, turning her back around. His hands fastened around her forearms, holding her fast.

"What do you think you're doing?" she gasped.

"What do you think?"

She tried to jerk her arms away. "Let me go, Malfoy!"

"Now why would I do that?"

She continued to struggle, but his grasp wouldn't loosen. Instead, he forced her arms above her head. "But-- I'm a Mudblood!" she tried desperately. "You wouldn't touch me, let alone..." she couldn't bring herself to say what she suspected.

"Not going to work, Granger. You need to be taught a lesson." His breath was hot on her face.

"I get it! Just let me go!"

"I don't think so." Now he transferred both her wrists to his left hand while the other moved down to the neck of her uniform.

"No! Don't--" but it was too late, he already tore the collar open and ripped down the front of her flimsy dress. He shifted to one side to continue the full length down the uniform.

"Stop!" She uselessly tried to kick him, but his own legs kept hers pinned underneath him. No matter how hard she fought, she was no match for him.

"Sure, I could use Cruciatus on you," Malfoy said as he now ripped the sleeves and pulled the ruined garment from underneath her. "But I'm sure you've experienced enough of it in your day, and clearly it's had no effect on your attitude. But this--" he breathed in sharply as he ripped her makeshift bra off. Hermione once again tried to pull her arms free to cover herself. "This will break your spirit, hurt your pride. Not to mention," he paused to leer and smile perversely at her, "get me a good shag."

At this, Hermione only fought harder. Her mind was racing, desperate to think of something, _anything_ that might save her. Malfoy was now taking off his shirt and loosening his pants, surely she had only limited time to find an escape before...

Ultimately, Hermione's only defense was to try and block it out. She shut her eyes tight, trying all she could to think of something else. However, once he entered her, her mental block came crashing down with the sheer physical and emotional pain. She tried all she could to keep from sobbing helplessly; she wouldn't stand to prove to him how much it affected her. But even her stubbornness couldn't keep the silent tears from running down the side of her face.

Hermione continued to thrash about as much as she could. She refused to allow Malfoy to take anything from her easily. But he was undeniably strong, soon pressing her hip down with his free hand to hold her in place, his left still tightly pinning her wrists to the bed.

After what felt like hours to Hermione, but was only several minutes, Malfoy finished and got up off her. Hermione still didn't open her eyes until she heard him walk around to the other side of the room and shut the bathroom door. The sound of a shower turning on acted as a trigger. Instantly, Hermione let out a sob that had been welling up inside her all that time. Muffling her crying with the back of her hand, she curled onto her side and wept until she couldn't anymore.

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Even once Hermione had exhausted herself of tears, the desire to cry remained. Her breathing was still uneven and gasping, her chest still painfully hollow-feeling.

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, willing herself to breathe. She lay there for a few minutes, listening to just the sound of her own breathing. Then she realized, the shower was no longer running, and she had no idea how long ago it had been shut off.

Panic overtook her once more. Why had she stayed there? Malfoy could be out any second and she had no desire to still be in his room when he was.

Where was her uniform? She found it on the floor. No longer wearable, she wrapped it around herself and hurried to the door. But the handle wouldn't turn. It was locked. She shook it, as if her frustration might will it to open.

"I never said you could leave."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She turned to face him, wanting to appear braver than she felt. "Let me out," she said shakily. Her eyes darted around the opposite walls' floorboards; she couldn't bring herself to look directly at him.

Malfoy strode across the room, trapping her with her back to the door. "Why should I?" His voice was low and venomous.

Hermione pressed herself against the door, trying to maintain as great a distance as possible. She had to avoid his dangerous gaze, as well, looking over his shoulder instead of up at his face.

Her fear kept her voice from working properly, causing her to choke on her words. "You've done what you wanted with me--" she swallowed. "Now let me go."

He moved in closer to her, his chest millimeters from hers. She could feel the heat radiating from his body; he had obviously taken a hot shower. Hermione was painfully aware of the fact that only her thin dress, his towel, and air separated their bodies. She felt terribly unprotected.

"Did I say I was finished?" He couldn't help but smirk at the look of absolute dread on her face. Then, he reached up, gripped her jaw, and kissed her.

His action had surprised her so that she hadn't prepared to resist him. Her jaw was pried open, held in such a vice-like grip, it hurt. She couldn't pull away. Her head and entire body was shoved up against the door, the doorknob pressing painfully into the small of her back and his hips pushing brutally against her already-sore pelvis. His tongue defiled her mouth. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. A kiss had never been so malicious.

And suddenly, her one defense occurred to her. She bit down. Hard.

Malfoy yelled and jumped back. "You little bitch!" His words were slurred slightly as she saw the blood from his tongue pool in his mouth. Then he slapped her across the face, even harder than the first time, where the original bruise was already blooming. "OUT! _Get OUT!_"

Upon his words, Hermione felt the door handle warm in response to his voice. This time, when Hermione pulled on the door handle, it turned. She ran, nearly tripping, down the stairs, into her basement cell, and flung herself onto her cot to sob.

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So I apologize if you found the amount of detail in the rape scene to be too much (although I didn't feel it was overly gratuitous). But it was important to me to show that Hermione fought her hardest, as she is a Gryffindor & therefore a fighter. (I hate when Hermione is portrayed as some stupid helpless girl.) But alas, Malfoy was just too strong.

& I apologize for making Malfoy completely unredeemable (for all you Dramione &/or Draco lovers). In canon, I think Malfoy's could be an okay guy, he was just a little misled. But as I said in the Ch1 A/N, he makes a good villain, if need be.

**Review, please!** I really, really would like your thoughts. Esp on what I consider to be a major chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** sorry I haven't uploaded for a week. I have been very busy, college & all that. & apologize in advance if it is another week or more before the net chapter

Okay**, to any readers that read ch1-3 before I uploaded this chapter**: let me say that I fear I may have misled you. I realized that in my Ch1 A/N I said that there "would be no happy Dramione ending". Let me reiterate: **There is no Dramione**—period. So I apologize.

Here is the edited portion of the Ch1 A/N: "Draco is not a nice person in this story. (someone has to be the villain. He makes it personal.) Therefore, **this is not a Dramione story***; they are in no way romantically involved. So if you are offended by rape, Evil!Draco, etc., or refuse to believe that D/Hr aren't meant to be, don't read.

*Perhaps you are wondering why one of the genres is "romance" if there's no Dramione. ...you will see :D . Hint: I wish I were able to tag more than 2 characters. So I just had to choose the main protagonist (Hermione) & the main antagonist (Draco). Plus, it would ruin the surprise (not that it's _that_ much of a surprise)."

**Chapter 4**

Hours later, Hermione lay asleep in her cot, exhausted of all her tears. Malfoy did not come to wake her when she was not up before him; he did not storm in at noon when she had still not ascended from her room.

She slept fitfully, revisited by nightmares that nearly matched those in Azkaban. She saw her friends slip away from her, innocent people tortured or dead, and Death Eaters laughing maliciously at the chaos and destruction they had caused. In her sleep, she felt constricted and suffocated. She imagined that the air was thick around her, trapping her, and separating her from those she loved.

Several times, Hermione jerked awake in the night and throughout the next day. She would lie there, at first worrying what Malfoy would do to her, than almost daring him to come. Hermione was torn between wanting to escape her pain by sleeping and wanting to escape her dreams by staying awake. Each time, she would grow weary and eventually give into her exhaustion.

Hermione had no idea of the hour when she woke after one particular dream. The memory of it was still fresh in her mind. The dream was nothing spectacular in meaning, just a random evolution of thoughts and memories in her head, the way dreams usually are. But in it, an object had briefly floated into the main scope of the dream, serving as a reminder.

She got off her cot, her tangled and torn uniform falling to the floor. Uncomfortable with being in Malfoy's house naked, she went to her cupboard, where her only other garment, a short dressing gown for when she bathed, was kept.

Going back over to her cot, she lifted up the mattress, revealing the rusty bed frame underneath. There, wrapped around the metal support links, was the one trinket she had saved, and hidden, from her previous life. She unwound the length of leather cord; on the end of it was a man's ring.

The ring was slightly gaudy, but in a way that would have been fashionable centuries ago. It was also too large for any of her fingers, since it was intended for a man, which was the reason it was on a cord to be worn around her neck.

Hermione slipped it over her head and pulled her volumous hair free from it. Instantly, she felt a peace fall on her that she had not felt since before her imprisonment. Her mind relaxed and warmed nostalgically. But her remaining consciousness of her present situation kept her reaction bittersweet. Nevertheless, she found her feet drifting toward her cupboard so she might admire the ring on her in the mirror.

Her hand automatically stroked the ring against her breast. It fell between the open V of her robe, touching her skin comfortingly. A smile nearly graced her lips as memories of sweeter, safer times drifted into her mind.

Her eyes traveled up her neck to her face, making her realize that she had not looked at herself properly in a very long time. She didn't care enough to have her hair as well kept as it once was (if it ever had been properly tamed). She had never been tan, but any healthy glow she might have once had was replaced by a ghostly, gray complexion. She had known that she was not as healthy a weight as she had once been, but the ramifications of Azkaban were even visible in her face.

However the most noticeable, to her at least, was how different her overall expression was. Her eyes, once knowing and eager, were desolate of any emotion but sorrow. Her mouth had always naturally turned down at the corners, in a natural pout. But unlike the concentrative frown she'd once worn when she studied, her lips seemed lax from regular lack of emotivity.

Not wanting to think anymore of her current position, Hermione forced herself to once again turn her thoughts to the ring and the past bliss it brought to mind. But before she could properly refocus herself, the bang of the door to the basement caused her to jump. She heard Malfoy's swift, heavy strides down the stone hallway, and had barely finished closing her robe up to her neck when her door burst open.

"You've been hiding down here long enough, Granger. It's past supper. Can't shrug off your chores every time I make you cry," Malfoy voice drawled. The sound of it made her freeze. She had to collect herself before turning to face him.

"Well, you won't do it again, so what does it matter?" Hermione gave him her coldest, most defiant look, but under her exterior she was terrified.

"Do you mean raping you or just the crying part? Because I think I might have some more goes," a smirk slithered across his face as he took an overbearing step towards her, "but I can't blame you if you start enjoying it."

This time it was Hermione that swung back to slap him, but he caught her arm before she could strike him. "You bastard," she spat. She tried to pull her arm away, but that caused him to hold onto her harder, wrenching her arm painfully.

"Now, now. Proper House elves don't go hitting their masters. Or else they're severely punished," Malfoy's voice was absolutely poisonous.

"You'll never have me again."

"Is that a challenge?" He pulled her close against him. Hermione pounded on his chest with her left fist, trying to free herself. He leered down at her, amused at her attempts, but she was too afraid to look back at his face.

"Get off of me!"

Instead, he yanked her by the arm to follow him. At first she was relieved as he led her up to the first floor, away from her own bed. But when he continued up the stairs to the master bedroom, she panicked and resumed her struggle. This merely impeded Malfoy, as Hermione was still dragged into his room, the door shut and locked behind him.

Malfoy pulled his wand from his pocket, pointing it at her. Hermione stopped breathing.

"Get on the bed"

Hermione swallowed. "No."

"_Get on the bed!_" This time, his voice echoed strangely in the back of her head as well, giving her no choice but to command him.

Hermione mentally pleaded herself to not do it. But her body was no longer under her control. It walked over, sat on the bed, and pushed itself back to lie in the center. Even though her bewitched body was perfectly still, Hermione certainly felt like she was shaking all over. _Not again_, she prayed. _Please don't let him do this again_.

Malfoy climbed on top of her and, tortuously slow, pulled on the tie of her dressing gown. He smirked as it began to fall open, his expression changing to confusion when he noticed the ring.

He sat back on his heels, straddling her, and with a quick tug on the ring, snapped the leather string from her neck. "Now what's this?"

"Give it back." Hermione tried to sit up, but couldn't with the spell still on her. All she could do is watch as he put his hands on her most prized and only possession.

Malfoy turned the ring over in his hands. He knew immediately that it was a wizard-family ring. He had one himself, as was tradition with pure-blood families.

It was not a family crest that he recognized, although he was sure he'd seen it before. The ring was not well cared for, tarnished and scratched. And the stone.... on closer look, what appeared as a ruby at first glance was actually a cheaper mimic of it. He could see evidence of the original being taken off and the new put on, both of which had been poorly done.

_Of course_, he thought. Then with a sneer, he said aloud "Weasley."

Her expression was proof enough.

"He must have really been a fool for you if he gave away his family ring."

"Just give it back," she whispered. "_Please_."

"And you seem to be overly sentimental about it. Is it because he was the only one stupid enough to actually want you? Or because you genuinely _loved him_?" Malfoy sneered once again with the last two words.

Hermione was too shocked to say anything. She could hardly believe this was happening, let alone stand how he mocked her relationship with Ron.

"I can't believe you actually cherish this piece of rubbish. Probably still clinging onto the hope that he'll come back one day.--"

"Just shut your mouth, Malfoy"

"--You do know what it means when someone's reported missing, don't you?--"

"Stop it."

"--Just means they couldn't find _any of the pieces_."

"Don't say that!" Either Malfoy's spell had weakened or Hermione had thrown it off, because she managed to sit up, and try to snatch the ring away from him.

Malfoy easily held onto it. "Seeing how much this means to you, I think I'll keep it." He got up to walk to his desk, dropped the ring into the drawer, and shut it, all to the disbelief of Hermione, who was still magically stuck to the bed.

Tears had begun to fall down her cheeks. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying with all her might not to break down in front of Malfoy. Now her last piece of Ron, her last piece of hope, had been taken from her.

"It's for your own good, Granger. It's unhealthy to lie to yourself like that." He lifted her chin, almost caringly, only to jerk her head to get her to look at him. "Stop crying like a fool. Don't know why you cared about him anyway."

Hermione's breathing began to shake, thinking off all the reasons she had loved him, wanting to prove him wrong. "You could never understand a real human emotion, Malfoy. You're too heartless."

"I don't need to understand love. All I care about is sex." His other hand found her robe again as he said this. "_Now be a good Mudblood and lie back down_." His voice had reacquired the echoing suggestion from before, causing her body to relax and fall slowly backward, as he climbed back on top of her.

This, she decided was worse than the first time. Before, she'd been allowed the dignity of fighting back. But now, she couldn't do a thing.

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So yes, Hermione is still in love with her missing/most likely dead, boyfriend, Ron. More on that in coming chapters! ---because although I like a good Dramione FF, I am a R/Hr shipper at heart. (::blocking self from tomatoes poised to be thrown:: "Don't hurt me!")

**Review, please! **Opinions?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** *sigh* so it has been a very busy week for me. Lots of HW, a midterm, finals coming up. But thankfully, I will soon be on spring break. I hope to get some writing done then, such as the planned sequel to this FF. (I can't figure out what would happen after the 1st chapter, though!) Plus, who knows if I will be better inspired to write a different HP FF (or for my latest obsession, Gossip Girl, lol.)

So it may be more than a week until chapter 6 (sorry!). But feel free to Story Alert or Author Alert me, if you haven't already (It makes me feel so loved! :D ).

**Chapter 5**

Once he was finished with her, Malfoy once again went to take a shower. He somehow felt inclined to. Sure, raping and pillaging sworn enemies has been a tradition throughout history, but he still felt like he needed to get the Mudblood filth off him.

When he came out of the bathroom this time, Granger was fast asleep instead of struggling with the door. She must have known it would be locked, and had pulled the sheet over her for dignity before falling prey to sleep. She faced away from him, half curled into a ball. He stood there, watching her sleep, inevitably admiring the figure of her hips and legs.

She wasn't all that pretty, especially with that hair. (Although it now occurred to him that it made for excellent sex hair.) But her face was decent and her body was better than he'd ever realized before. It was almost strange he'd never thought about it until recent events. Maybe that was because he'd only ever thought of her as a know-it-all Mudblood, friend of Harry Potter.

She had managed to somehow get Viktor Krum, although he'd never understood how. And Weasley had been drooling over her for years, but since when was Weasley known for good taste?

In fact, because he'd never seen Granger show much interest in Weasley, he was almost surprised she had dated him. Let alone care so much for him.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Had she been a virgin? Before tonight, he would have said yes. He'd always taken her as a prude. But if she'd been so serious with Weasley that he'd given her his family ring? And that she'd cared so much when he took it from her and told her Weasley was dead? Malfoy couldn't be sure. Thinking back on the previous night, there had been too much struggling to tell. There had been some blood, but was that just from raping her? The question burned in his mind.

He walked around the bed to get a better look at her. Granger slept, looking surprisingly peaceful. Her eyes darted around under her eyelids, obviously dreaming. He also noticed her mouth twitching, as if into a small smile. What could she be dreaming about?

Malfoy silently took his wand from the drawer, pointing it toward her. Nothing a little Legilimency couldn't find out.

---

Hermione's dream wasn't of the typical kind, where events are an unconnected jumble. It was more like a perfect reenactment of a memory.

The memory was of the last time Hermione could remember being truly, purely happy. It was before Azkaban. Before Ron had gone missing. Before the Battle at Hogwarts, where they'd lost the war and Harry had died. When the Order had still been optimistic about winning the war.

It was early March, just after Ron's 19th birthday. Winter was still holding on, and to counter the chilling drafts, fires were lit in each of Grimmauld Place's rooms. The war seemed far away from their cozy sanctuary.

Currently, she and Ron were curled up in her bed under the sheets. His arm was wrapped around her, cradling her head in his right shoulder.

Ron used to complain half-heartedly about cuddling, claiming it was the official male stance on the matter. Yet he seemed to hold her increasingly closer and tighter as the war waged on, and was more and more reluctant to let her go. Despite his feigned nonchalance, Hermione knew him better. He was never very good at hiding his emotions.

Hermione's eyes were closed, lulled by the steady circles Ron's thumb was tracing on her side. Suddenly, he paused, as if in indecision, then—"I'll be right back," he whispered into her hair, and slid out from underneath her.

"Where are you going?" She sat up, clutching the covers to her breast for warmth.

He pulled on his pair of discarded boxers and leaned over the bed. "I _said_," a teasing grin stretched across his face, "I'll be right back."

She smiled back at him, wondering what he was up to, as he kissed her on the lips and then walked to the door to stick his head out. Deciding it was all clear, Ron slipped out the door snuck down the hall toward the room he shared with Harry. Not that it mattered much if he was caught, Hermione speculated. It wasn't as if most of Grimmauld Place didn't know.

Months ago, Ron and Hermione had finally decided to start a relationship, but agreed to keep it quiet. Naturally, Harry had been informed by Ron with Hermione's consent, and Hermione had divulged in Ginny as well. But soon more people were let in on the secret than Ron and Hermione had intended.

Fred and George also discovered they were sleeping together, much to Ron's dismay. Fred had made the mistake of Apparating into Ron's room without warning, finding both of them in the process of being undressed. He Disapparated just as quickly, but before Ron could run after him, he had already told his twin.

The twins were rather pleased with themselves over their discovery. They mockingly beamed with congratulatory pride whenever Ron was around, which irked Hermione at first. It was not, however, for the reason that she thought.

"It's because Ron stopped being an idiot, realized he liked you, and got up the courage to do something about it," as George later informed her.

"Although, we had wondered if Ron would die a virgin," chimed in Fred, never missing an opportunity to make a joke at Ron's expense. "What possessed you to agree to shag him anyway?"

Despite Ron's efforts to have them sworn to secrecy, they wasted no time in telling Bill (who told Fleur) and Charlie (who told Percy). Ron was also convinced that Tonks somehow figured it out and let Lupin in on it. Meanwhile, Mr. Weasley seemed to feign ignorance and if Mrs. Weasley knew (Ron's worst nightmare), she acted perfectly oblivious. Hermione had even received a knowing smile from McGonagall at dinner once, causing her to reevaluate just how secret their secret-romance was.

After a few minutes, Ron returned. He was acting nervously, being careful to conceal something in his hand while he closed the door and sat on the foot of the bed, facing her. As he sat there trying to form words, his ears grew notoriously red, invoking Hermione's compassion. She reached over to place her hand on his knee. "Ron?"

"Hermione, I love you..."

"I know, Ron. I love you, too." This confused Hermione. They had exchanged 'I love you's months ago. Why was Ron acting so strangely?

"Yeah, but what I mean is..." He took a breath. "I know that I can't always protect you, not while we're fighting You-Know-Who--although I know you can take care of yourself, maybe even better than I could... but I certainly want to protect you, I wish I always could. Not because I'm being sexist, just because that's the way guys naturally are, wanting to protect the girl they love..."

"Ron, what are you getting at?" She smiled reassuringly, knowing how inarticulate he could be when he was nervous.

"Well, also,... I, uh, love you enough that... I could see us, someday,... possibly,... getting married one day." His voice trailed off as his face twisted into an anxious smile.

Hermione's mouth opened and closed in shock, unable to speak. "Ron, I ..."

He looked down at his hands, in fear of rejection.

"I would like to someday, possibly, get married one day."

A smile grew across her lips until she couldn't help but beam. Ron looked up and leaned across to kiss her, both of them smiling like fools.

After a few seconds, Ron broke away. "Good," he said. "I want you to have this." He took her hand and placed what he'd been holding in her palm.

It was the ring.

"What is it?" she asked, turning it over in her hands.

"Well, in old pure-blood families, there's this tradition that when each wizard comes of age, he's given a ring with the family crest on it. Some families can afford to get one made for each wizard, but we just pass them down—this one was my uncle Bilius'. And it's not very valuable. The ruby's a fake; somebody pawned it a long time ago...

"But family rings matter more to other families than our own. Pride of having pure-blood lineage and all that. Still,... it's tradition; and we see it having to do more with importance of family than blood, anyway."

Hermione held it between her thumbs and pointers, studying the family crest engraved under the stone. "Are you sure that you want to give this to me? If it means so much?"

"Have you ever seen anyone in my family wear one?" he asked incredulously. "It won't be missed by you having it. Besides, I want you to have it.... It can be like I'm always with you. A good luck charm to keep you safe. That, and... if we do end up getting married," Ron's ears reddened again "it'll be your family crest, too."

Hermione smiled, slipping the ring onto her thumb. Now she was the one to reach across and kiss him, putting her hand on his cheek.

"I love you, Ron."

All he could do in reply was grin, and kiss her back.

Leaving the sheet that covered her behind, Hermione crawled onto his lap. She kissed him deeper, putting her palms on either side of his face and pressing herself against him.

Ron responded with equal enthusiasm and pulled her even closer, hands splayed across her back. She always felt so good against his bare chest, perhaps now even more than usual.

One of Hermione's hands relocated to his shoulder, only to snake a wayward path down his chest and abdomen and slip under Ron's waistband.

Ron grunted, biting down on her bottom lip. "Don't be so impatient, 'Ermione," his voice strained as he returned her hand to his shoulder.

"I thought you were the impatient one," she whispered in his ear before kissing just below it.

He pulled back to look at her properly. "Oh, I'm impatient? We'll just have to see about that." Catching her by surprise so that she gave a gleeful shriek, Ron tossed onto her back before climbing on top of her and reassuming their kiss.

"Are you going to prove me wrong now?" she asked between kisses.

Ron moved to kiss her neck. "Mmmhmm" he murmured against her skin.

Hermione arched against him and leaned her head back. Her hands crept up his neck, curling fists into his hair and moaning softly near his ear. Spurred on, Ron's mouth continued its way down to her shoulder and collarbone, then to the valley between her breasts. There it detoured to both breasts, making her heart pound and her breathing ragged.

He was making her more and more unrestful, until her hands trailed down his sides, slipping her thumbs in his waistband in readiness to unclothe him.

Ron pushed her hands back to his shoulder blades. "You're gonna have to stop getting ahead of me," he laughed.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and smiled coyly.

Ron reassumed the path of kisses down her body, down her chest, her stomach, her abdomen--all excruciatingly slow for Hermione's taste. Finally, he reached the junction of her legs; Hermione needed no enticing to part her legs for him. He kissed her there, too.

Hermione's head reeled in the deliciousness of it. She loved they way he made her feel, physically and in her heart, and wondered if any man could make her feel the same way. She loved him more than she had realized possible. It was so much more than sex. Sex couldn't possibly be this good with anyone else, anyone that didn't make her chest feel close to bursting when they kissed her or her mind hum when touching her bare skin.

"Ron," she inhaled sharply. Her body stiffened right on the edge. A second more and she would orgasm.

Ron sensed this and paused, wanting tease her for as long as possible before finally flicking his tongue over her, making her crash back down.

Hermione gulped down breaths, trying to recover while Ron kissed his way back up the trail he'd previously blazed across her body until reaching her mouth again.

"Now?" her voice whimpered more than she had meant it to.

He smiled. "Now."

"Good." With that, rolled him over, straddling him, and quickly discarded his boxers. Ron required no more assistance in being ready for her. Hermione slid onto him, both of them relishing the feel of it.

Ron watched as she sat there for several moments, eyes closed in concentration, almost meditatively. She looked so calm yet so stimulated, as if she was studying the feel of him like any other book. Just as Ron thought about staying like this forever, Hermione tightly squeezed her inner muscles.

"Gg--god, Hermione," he moaned, having trouble getting the words out. He gently tugged on one of her wrists so that her head lowered near his. "I don't know how much more of that I can last through," he whispered, kissing her.

"You certainly teased me enough. I just thought I'd repay the favor."

"Uh-huh," he responded, before flipping her back under him. "But then what about you? You still need to be taken care of."

"Technically, I already was," she whispered seductively.

Ron's expression feigned ignorance. "Really? Because I can't say I remember that."

Hermione laughed and locked her ankles around him. "Alright then, fine." She reached up to whisper in his ear, "Have your way with me."

He smiled and drew from her a prolonged kiss, before pumping into her.

Hermione writhed beneath him, moaning unrestrained, trying to hold on as long as possible until she couldn't anymore. The final wave that pulsated over her body was enough for Ron to come as well.

Now both exhausted, Hermione lay on her side, one hand on his chest. Ron took it in his, gently rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb.

"How'd we get so good at this?"

Hermione had already closed her eyes. "The practice," she said simply.

Ron cocked his head to see his watch on the bedside table. "It's late."

"Mmm," she responded, sleep beginning to take her.

Smiling, Ron put her hand to his mouth and gently kissed it.

---

For several minutes, Malfoy stood staring at her sleeping form. He didn't know what to make of what he had just witnessed. They had been mad about each other, fully _in love_. (Malfoy rolled his eyes at the thought.)

Not to mention that Granger was hardly the inexperienced prude he had taken her for. She was confident, sexy, and exuberant. He supposed he would never get her to act that way with him, but the knowledge that she could just turned him on more. _It's always the quiet ones_, he quipped. Weasley had been one lucky son of a bitch.

He admitted how strange and intruding it was to read her thoughts like that, but he didn't care. Maybe one day he'd tell her what he'd done to see her reaction. But not now. He enjoyed the thought of knowing so much about her without her being aware of it.

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**A/N:** You may have noticed that Ron just turned 19 in the memory. I decided to make the time span that Harry was destroying Horcruxes since the end of 6th year to be two years (instead of one) & have the Battle at Hogwarts happen a year after the end of what would have been there 7th year, and so now Hermione is 20. Just thought I'd bump the age up a couple years.

If you're confused about the timeline, just ask. I realize that I might not have explained it in the clearest way.

**Review, please!!! **For example, what are thoughts on the Ron/Hermione scene/idea in general? **  
**

**Up next: **A plot twist that you may or may not have seen coming. **  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Months passed.

And tonight, Hermione had found herself once again in Malfoy's bed. In fact, she found herself there about once a week, more than she'd ever cared for.

Hermione was ashamed as to how many times he'd had her. There just seemed no stopping him. Often when it became inevitable that she would be raped, Hermione realized there was no use in struggling. And that killed her. It killed her that he'd drained her of the will to fight him. It killed her that he'd managed to break her, just like he'd said. Much like in Azkaban, she felt empty. She was void of emotions so that each day was just a going through the motions.

Tonight she felt no different.

Malfoy, however, seemed particularly pleased with himself ever since coming home that afternoon, even quite ...enthusiastic in bed.

He left quite often, on Death Eater business, she presumed. But she was always locked inside the house.

This afternoon, he came home and bellowed at her to clean one of the upstairs rooms and not come out until it was immaculate. The room in particular was unused, and thoroughly dirty. But Hermione didn't think he really cared about the room, just for some unknown reason wanted her out of the way. He seemed to confirm her suspicions when hours later he told her to take a bath and promptly report to his room. She attempted to argue that she couldn't until the room was clean. His response: forget the room, it doesn't matter anymore.

So what irked her was why he was so happy and what he had been doing that he needed to send her away.

She lay awake for a long time trying to figure it out.

It was rare that she slept much while in his bed, although usually because of her disquiet and repulsion of what he'd done to her each time. She wasn't sure why he always kept her locked in his room until morning. Her only thought was if he wanted her again in the night, although he never did. Either way, when the sun rose, the door became unlocked and she promptly slipped out before he woke.

The next morning was no different.

She quietly got out of bed, put her uniform on (which also oddly repaired itself each morning), and crept to the door. Slowly, she opened the door handle, cursing whenever it squeaked and closed the door behind her.

As soon as she was out of his room, she always felt some small relief wash over her. She descended the stairs to the ground level, then to the basement, opening its door and walking down the dank hallway. She pushed open the door to her cell, surprised to find someone standing there.

It was Ron.

Her breath caught in her throat as soon as she saw him. She was frozen, mind racing. Could it really be him? Was she dreaming? Was he an enchantment or illusion?

Before she could say anything, he strode across the room, took her in his arms, and kissed her--kissed her in a way that only Ron could. It was gentle yet hungry, trying to make up for every day they'd spent apart. She felt her the inside of her chest warm at his touch and her eyes wet at the how much she'd missed this--and missed him.

Ultimately she pulled away, needing an explanation.

"I thought you were dead," she choked. "When George and Charlie came back, they said you'd disappeared during the fight. We thought you'd been captured. But then we saw in the _Prophet_ that you and some Death Eater were both reported missing. I wanted to try looking for you, but--" her voice began to break as she cried harder "--the Order said it wasn't any use."

Ron hugged her tighter as she cried into his T-shirt, stroking her hair.

"It was awful," she said once she'd calmed down. "What happened? Tell me everything."

She raised her head to look up at him, still unbelieving it was really Ron. His hair was a little longer and his jaw sported a dark red shadow, but his eyes were as blue as ever, staring down at her like she was his world. Not even Polyjuice could imitate that.

He sighed and kissed her forehead. "Well, as you know, we were ambushed on our mission."

She nodded.

"Death Eaters started firing spells at us and somehow I got separated and lost track of them. I don't know how many there were in all, but I got outnumbered. I was all ready to just Disapparate out of there, like we'd agreed if things got hairy. But then that one Death Eater was either smart enough to know what I was gonna do or had some real dumb luck, and grabbed onto me. I knew that I had to get the hell out of there, but I couldn't take him back to Grimmauld Place, so I just Apparated to the first random location I could think of. And as soon--"

"Where?"

"Uh, just some field you can see from my Aunt Muriel's. No idea why I thought of it," he shrugged. He exhaled, pausing before taking his explanation back up. "So once we're there, he lets go and we start dueling again. He eventually hits me in the gut with something and I fall to my knees. The prat thinks that's enough for me to go permanently down, giving me the chance to--..." he trailed off, his eyes growing distant, "to kill him," he finished solemnly.

Hermione tightened her grip around him to offer comfort. "You had to, Ron," she said matter-of-factly. "If you hadn't, he would've killed you."

"Yeah," he sighed.

Hermione waited a little while before asking him gently what happened after that.

"Luckily, some Muggle must have seen the flashing lights or heard us yelling and came down. Soon, the, uh..."

"Police?" she offered.

"Yeah, they came, along with the Muggle Healers. I was pretty out of it; it wasn't until days later when I woke up that the Muggle Healer told me what happened. They were kind of amused with me, but also kinda afraid since the other guy was dead. Must have looked pretty strange to them when he was in a mask and killed by magic, but the Healer didn't ask even though I could tell he was curious. Then the _paleez_ came and asked me questions, but I couldn't really answer them and they didn't know what to ask anyway. Took me awhile for them to give me my wand back from them, and by the time I could get out of there, it'd been almost a week." He swallowed. "I found Death Eaters patrolling Grimmauld Place and only just got out of there--not sure if they recognized me. I went looking in rubbish bins for an old _Prophet_. Said that the major Order's headquarters had been raided and everyone there had been captured."

It was Ron's turn to fight back tears. "I didn't know what to do," he said, his voice uneven, "My family, friends, you--all in Azkaban. You all having to suffer in there killed me. I thought about trying to break you all out, but... had no idea how... I didn't have you, or Harry," his voice broke on the name of his dead friend, "for a long time, I just hid out somewhere."

He paused a few moments to regain himself. "I'd been trying to knick _Prophets_ whenever I could, summoning them from owls and modifying their memories in case they might lead Death Eaters back to me later. One day I saw that there was some big upcoming conference at the Ministry. Of course the _Prophet_ made it sound innocent since it's controlled by the Ministry and they're controlled by Death Eaters... but I figured if there was any time to do something useful it might then by trying to gather information. I went back to Grimmauld, where security was down to one incompetent Death Eater that I easily snuck by and got the Cloak from mine and--from our room. They didn't seem to find it, as I'd hoped, since it was under the bed and invisible. And I went to the conference."

"Ron! What if you'd been caught?" she scolded.

He shrugged. "At that point I didn't care. Not like I was doing any good before that."

She sighed. "So then what?"

"Then? Well, a lot of little stuff. Kept going back to the Ministry, actually, since it had worked the first time. Got some people out of the country right before the Ministry came to arrest them for whatever trumped-up reason. Tried to fuck up anything that I could for them. Fought some of 'em at times, nearly got caught a couple times, and got in some tight situations. But the _Prophet_ never reported anything I did and the Ministry and Death Eaters figured me just another random vigilante."

"So why are you here?"

"I guess it was only a matter of time. I went to raid some place where people were being tortured. I may have gotten some of them out. But before I could get them all out safely or escape myself, I was cornered by Draco Malfoy. Thought he was gonna use _Avada Kedavra_, but I guess he just Stunned me."

"Oh," she said anxiously.

"So what is this place? It isn't Azkaban, is it some other prison?"

"Uhh," she said hesitantly, "not really." She exhaled. "This is Malfoy's--Draco Malfoy's--house. We're in his basement, and this room is some kind of cell."

"And what are you doing here? The _Prophet_ had said you were in Azkaban."

"I was until a few months ago. But now I'm here... as Malfoy's 'house-elf.'" She crinkled her nose at the last phrase.

Ron looked confused.

"He blames me for the house-elf rebellion," she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Thinks that Mudbloods aren't any better, and gets a particular kick out of ordering _me_ around." Hermione bit her lip unable to tell him the whole truth.

"Has he hurt you? Tortured you?" he said, his face full of concern.

She shrugged to fake ignorance. "No, he just makes me cook and clean things." She felt guilty lying to him. But for some reason she couldn't tell him. It would kill him to know she been abused like that.

He nodded, still looking worried, and pulled her back in to hold her. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"I'm just glad you're alive," she laughed lightly, before reaching up to kiss him again.

She relaxed in his arms, feeling safe for the first time in a long time. Somehow, everything felt like it would turn out okay now that Ron was here.

He leaned her head back and kissed her slowly and passionately, making her melt into him. She'd forgotten what this could feel like, and it felt almost better because of their time apart.

Ron had already been supporting her on her tiptoes to better reach him. And now her hands snaked up to his neck to pull his head down to her and to better keep herself up. She moved down to more easily kiss his neck, Ron closing his eyes and relaxing at her touch.

"I missed you," he said. "Missed you so damn much."

"Me, too," she whispered into his neck.

"Hermione," he said suddenly, pulling away. The concerned look returned, exponentially, to his face. "What are these bruises?" he demanded while holding her forearms.

She jerked her arms away, harder than needed and now trying to hide the purple and yellow skin on her wrists and forearms. "Nothing," she said unconvincingly.

"Hermione," his voice shook, "Tell me where you got them."

She nervously avoided his gaze.

"_What did Malfoy do?_" he demanded. Then realizing he was scaring her, "Please, Hermione, just tell me," he pleaded.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears. She shook her head, looking up at him.

"He didn't... He wouldn't..." Ron could guess, but didn't want to believe it.

When she didn't answer, he turned around and paced halfway across the room, running his hands through his hair. "This is all my fault," he muttered. "If I had been here, I could have kept this from happening, kept him from..." he grunted in frustration and punched the side of her wardrobe, "kept him from _doing that_ to you."

"It's not your fault, Ron."

"I'm supposed to protect you!" Ron gestured with his hands in the hair.

"You can't protect me from everything." Hermione took his hands in hers. "It's impossible. If it's anybody's fault, it's Malfoy's."

"Malfoy," he growled. "When I get my hands on him, I'm gonna--"

"You're gonna what, Weasley?"

Hermione turned around and Ron looked up to see Malfoy's face through the cell door's barred window.

Ron stepped protectively in front of Hermione.

"Pray tell, Weasley. I'd like to know what you plan to do since you're locked up and without a wand."

All Ron could do was seethe. "Malfoy," he snarled.

"I suppose you told him about our wonderful times together, Granger."

Hermione gave Malfoy a pleading look to stop antagonizing Ron--which he ignored.

"She tell you how much she prefers me over you?"

"Stop it, Malfoy," she said.

"How she screams my name? Each night begging me to shag her senseless?"

"YOU'D BETTER SHUT THE HELL UP, MALFOY!"

"Or what?" he scoffed.

Ron stepped up to the door, vehemently wrapping his hands around the bars. "When I get out of here," he growled through clenched teeth, "you're gonna wish you'd never touched her."

Malfoy sneered. "Somehow I doubt that."

Hermione stood back, horrified at their stand-off. The two of them just stared daggers at each other for several moments until Malfoy broke the silence.

"Granger," he called while still smirking at Ron, "I'm sure there's something in need of scrubbing."

Hermione sighed and walked to open the door, which Malfoy was guarding with his wand out.

Ron caught her by the elbow. "Don't go," he said quietly, shaking his head.

"Granger," Malfoy warned.

"I have to," she said regretfully. She gave him a quick kiss before squeezing out the door.

Watching his greatest enemy walk off with his greatest love was like a kick to the chest. She needed him, and Ron couldn't do anything about it.

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**A/N:** So… part of me hates that Ron has so much dialogue. Not that I don't like Ron or something, I just feel that he's a pretty succinct guy, so it seemed weird to give him such long runs of expository. But frankly, things needed to be explained, so there wasn't really a way around that.

And yeah, so that was a LOT of back-story/exposition at once. But I kind of liked being able to do the back-story through the characters instead just through narration. Plus, it kind of left what had happened leading up to this as a bit of an enigma.

**Review, please**. More thoughts on Ron? His sudden return? The Draco vs. R/Hr dynamic? The existence of Nargles and your theory of how one turn out to be Hermione's savior? Really, I don't care what you say, as long as it's in the form of a review.

Hope to update within a week, no promises. Ciao for now; tune in again.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** So, I know it's been more than a week if not 2 or even more than that since I last updated. Sorry!! Finals, then Spring Break, then start of new classes... ::phew!:: Well here we go. Sorry for the delay.

**For any returning readers:** So a reviewer pointed out to me awhile back that they had no idea where the characters were. Looking back, I saw how warranted this was. I had not added sufficient enough info as to where Hermione & Malfoy were! So well, **as of Ch 2, they are in Draco's personal house. All previous chapters, excluding Ch 1, were set in either Draco's master bedroom or Hermione's dungeon/cell/bedroom.** Ch 2 has been edited to establish the setting better. Sorry for the confusion.

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**Chapter 7**

Hermione stood frozen at the kitchen sink, her hands in mid-scrub of a pot.

"Those dishes don't scrub themselves without magic, you know," a voice drawled behind her.

Hermione jumped, sloshing water out of the pot, and immediately resumed her washing as if to pretend that she had never stopped.

"You're going to just ignore me now?"

Hermione rinsed the pot and set it on the rack beside her before picking up a plate.

"Seeing your dearest Weasley must have put you in quite the tizzy."

Her only response was to turn on the faucet in the hopes to drown out his voice.

Malfoy walked up behind and turned off the faucet. He reached around to grab her wrists out of the sink and hold them to the edge of it.

"I'd think you should be thanking me for finding him for you. Maybe even," he leaned in to whisper sensually into her ear, "repaying the favor."

She shivered, jerking her head, and tried to lift her hands from his grasp. But Malfoy only held them more forcefully.

"What? Do you think that so unreasonable?"

"You already get what you want," she hissed, "whether I give it to you or not."

"Not everything," he said and leaned down to kiss her on the neck.

Hermione stiffened. He had not kissed her on the mouth since the first time when she had bitten him. And the rare occasions that he kissed her elsewhere sickened her.

"You get enough," she said through clenched teeth. "Now let me go so I can finish washing the dishes."

He let go of one of her hands to extract his wand, waving it at the dishes so they all flew, cleaned, to the rack.

She gulped, hoping the relief of her current activity wasn't so that he could make her submit to another.

"Now we can talk."

Talk, Hermione assumed, was not all he had in mind.

"I admit, I can't say I ever expected to find Weasley. But it wasn't until yesterday that your blood-traitor lover just fell into my lap.

"I, of course, had thought him dead. I had heard… _rumors_ about a red-haired saboteur that continued to elude different Death Eaters. I figured that they just wanted to make the separate instances have the same clever culprit as to not uncover their own incompetence. So I was quite surprised to discover him alive… not to mention capable enough to accomplish what he'd done.

"So, not only have I captured the culprit that has been causing us so much trouble, I get the added bonus that the culprit is my good pal Weasel."

Hermione froze once again, forcing herself to keep breathing and barely noticing when he kissed her shoulder. She knew that he was up to something purely sinister.

Then, Malfoy just let her go and walked to the door.

"It will be such a pleasure when I kill him," he said as he pushed the door open.

She flew around. "Wait!"

He looked back at her, getting exactly the reaction he had wanted, but not showing it.

"Yes?"

"You… you can't."

Malfoy let the door swing shut. "And why might that be? Just because some no-good Mudblood like yourself says I can't?"

Hermione bit her lip desperately trying to think.

"Perhaps what you mean to say is that you would be willing to do something in exchange for his life. Although… everything I could possibly want of you I already get. Just like you said."

"There has to be something…anything," she pleaded.

Malfoy's smirk grew wider with each step he took towards her. "Anything?"

She nodded hesitantly.

His cold eyes narrowed on her face, swept sexually over body, and landed back on her eyes. "Perhaps there is one thing…. But you would never agree to it." He dismissed, turning.

Hermione swallowed hard.

"Try me."

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**Review Please!! **

Sorry for the short chapter, but I should be updating much faster, ie in a couple of days.

...jeez this is like my 4th apology... haha


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Someone asked where Ron was being kept. I kind of mentioned in Ch 6 how Hermione found Ron in her cell (which is in the basement). Was it not obvious enough?

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**Chapter 8 **

Ron had been pacing the floor of the cell ever since Hermione and Malfoy had left—a habit he had picked up from Harry.

Ron remembered how he and Hermione would sit and watch as Harry frantically paced and spitballed ideas. It used to worry them when Harry did it. But now Harry was gone and it was Ron's obligation to stress over the dire situations.

How were he and Hermione going to get out of this? The trio had pulled off some miraculous stunts once upon a time. Now… well, their luck had changed with Harry's death. Everything seemed to go from bad to worse.

If it were him alone, Ron would have more easily considered giving up. But when it came to Hermione, he couldn't. He couldn't let her stay here and he _couldn't _let Malfoy to take advantage of her any longer.

Then Ron heard the door to the cellar squeak open and footfalls coming down the hall.

"Hello again, Weasley."

Ron curled his top lip at the sight of the pale face through the barred window. "What do you want now, Malfoy?" he spat.

"Oh nothing you could give me. Your girlfriend, yes, but not you."

Ron rigidly set his jaw and ticked his head, trying to suppress his rage. He growled, "Then why are you here?"

"To gloat," Malfoy smiled evilly. "There are so many reasons to. I'm on the side that's won, having all sorts of power. While you are locked up with no hope of escaping. On top of it all, I've been shagging your fiancé, Weasley."

"You touch her again, I swear to _God_, Malfoy—"

"Oh, I planning on doing a lot more than touching her from here on out. In fact, she and I just closed a little deal. But I think I definitely came out with the better end."

"What kind of deal?" Ron asked, afraid to know. What more could Malfoy possibly submit her to?

"She wanted so desperately that I keep from killing you she would have agreed to practically anything."

"Like what?" he asked more urgently.

Malfoy smirked. "Well… since I already was raping her she has to go one step further…"

"Tell me, Malfoy!"

"Let's just say she has to be more… _proactive_ in bed, even initiating… no more struggling—and she can't just lay there like a dead fish as per usual."

Ron shook his head, backing away. "She'd never agree to that."

"Well, she did. As long as I keep you alive. It's amazing what she'd do just to save your sorry arse."

Ron grew pale and grew nauseous. "That's sick, Malfoy, even for you."

He smirked again. "I thought it was genius actually."

Ron tried to regain himself, breathing deliberately until he became worked back up to anger.

"You fucking bastard," Ron snarled walking back toward the door.

"That's right, Weasley. I'll be fucking Granger to be precise."

"Why are you doing this? What kind of perverse kick do you get out of torturing us like this?" Ron demanded.

Malfoy paused to search for whichever answer might most upset him and finally decided on: "Because I'm bored, Weasley."

"You sick son of a bitch."

Malfoy shrugged. "Ever since we won the war, life has been rather boring. I almost long for the days when Potter and I had some sort of rivalry to keep myself occupied. You should be honored, Weasley, that you are my new rival. You may be even dumber than Potter was… but you'll do."

"Fine, just keep Hermione out of it."

Malfoy laughed. "Oh, I don't think so. Granger is how I get to you and you are how I get to her. The arrangement works quite nicely: torturing you and shagging her."

Ron was close enough now that his hand shot out through the bars and grabbed Malfoy by the front of the robes. Malfoy responded just as quickly with his wand pointed at Ron's face.

"I don't know what you think you're gonna do without a wand, Weasley."

Ron thought that whether he strangled or punched him, it may be well worth it.

Ultimately, however, he reluctantly let him go. A very Hermione-ish voice in his head told him that getting seriously injured would only hurt their chances of getting out of there. He would just have to try it later when he had a better opportunity.

Malfoy smoothed his robes. "As much of a pleasure as it was talking to you, I have things to before your girlfriend shags me."

Ron instinctively tried to grab at him again, but Malfoy stepped out of reach.

"First chance I get, I'm gonna kill you, Malfoy!"

Malfoy smirked as he turned and walked away.

"You hear me Malfoy? You're dead!"

*****

The sun had already gone down by the time Hermione got her chance to see Ron again. Malfoy had retreated to his room and Hermione had finished her immediate chores.

When she peered through the window of her cell, she found Ron sitting on her bed with his head in his hands. It reminded her of when Harry looked when he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She tried the door, but this time it was locked from the outside as well. The sound of it, however, caused Ron to raise his head.

He got up and reached the door in two strides. "Hermione?" his voice was quiet and pained.

She bit her lip and put her hand on the window, which he took. "Hi Ron," she responded, not knowing what else to say.

Ron stared at her hand as he rubbed his thumb over it. Hermione could tell he wanted to say something to her.

Finally, Ron's croaky voice broke the silence.

"Malfoy told me you made a deal with him. …to keep me alive."

She nodded.

"You shouldn't have done that," said gravely and removed his hand.

"I had to, Ron. He would have killed you."

Ron became more urgent. "And he's gonna _keep_ holding me over you, getting you to do whatever he wants, forever. This doesn't end here."

"I'm aware of that, Ron."

"Yet you played right into his hands!"

"You think I don't know that?"

"But you did it anyway!"

"Well what else was I supposed to do?"

"_Not do it_."

Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes, affecting her voice. "And just let you die?"

"Yes!"

Hermione looked up to the ceiling to try to keep her tears from falling. When she finally spoke her voice was breaking. "I just got you back, Ron. I can't lose you again. I won't let it happen."

Seeing Hermione cry made Ron wish so badly that he could hold her—that a door wasn't separating them and they were far away from this place.

"What about the next time he threatens to kill me?" he asked quietly. "What then?"

She sighed. "Then I make another deal."

Ron turned around, unable to face her when he felt so useless. "This isn't the way it's supposed to work," he muttered. "I'm supposed to protect you—not sit by as you…_compromise_ yourself like that."

"Ron," she said solemnly, "I would do _anything_ for you."

"No, Hermione, not this." Ron's voice began to rise until he was almost yelling, "I can't let you. _I_ _won't_."

"You can't stop me," Hermione returned in matched volume. "I don't care what you say because I can't let Malfoy kill you. I'm doing this—doing this for _us_."

At this point, the cellar door banged open, revealing Malfoy. "I thought I heard you to shrieking like an old married couple," he said mock-conversationally and walking towards them.

Both of them held back whatever else they might've had to say, not wanting to have their conversation in Malfoy's presence.

"Well," he smirked and clapped his hands together as if mimicking a jovial party host, "I'm afraid it's time for dear Granger to get going upstairs."

"Can… can we just have a few more minutes?" she asked nervously, neither looking at Ron nor Malfoy.

He sneered, "You've had enough time. Go. Now. I will be up momentarily."

Hermione brushed past him, Malfoy's eyes following her as she left.

Once the door shut, they snapped back to smirk evilly at Ron. "I think I'm going to have a lot of fun tonight, Weasley. Wish me luck."

All Ron could do was glare back. He was speechless with rage—and out of threats. He couldn't think of anything to say that could express his level of contempt.

Malfoy smirked once more and turned to go. "Have a good night," he called back. "I know I will."

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**Review, please! **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I thought I'd take the chance now to thank people for their reviews. Your reviews make me very happy & loved (even if I don't get all that many). So keep doing it! Or if you haven't, please do.

**Chapter 9**

_Oh God Oh God Oh God._

Hermione stood uncomfortably in Malfoy's room—and completely panicked.

She had been steady in her decision. It was for Ron—the man that she loved. She was ready to do anything for him in theory… but in execution? Would she be able to go through with it?

She'd have to. That she knew. Because if she didn't she would lose Ron again.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He'd raped her before, so how different could this be?

A world of difference.

Being forced onto was one thing, but having to… Hermione gulped. Having to actually initiate, to take part… could she really do that?

Malfoy didn't give her much time to think about it all before he showed up. She expected him to say something—something to taunt her, something about Ron.

But, no. All he did was close the door behind him and stand, raising his eyebrows expectantly at her.

She swallowed again. "So… what do you want me to do?"

"You know what I want. It's not like you've never done this before." He sighed. Apparently she would need some direction. Not entirely unexpected for their first time. "I suppose you can start by taking off you uniform."

She nodded, slightly unattached, and with shaky hands lifted the frock from the bottom hem up over her head. Malfoy noted that it was not done particularly sexily, but it would do.

He took a moment to sweep his eyes over her, almost as if taking inventory. Hermione wanted desperately to cover herself and stood there awkwardly.

Then he took her by the wrist and led her to the bed. He sat down on the bottom edge, leaving her standing in front of him.

"Come on," he said after she failed to do anything for a few seconds. "Make good of your promise." He retook her arm and leaned in. "Or do I have to threaten Weasley's life some more."

She bit her lip as he guided her to sit on his lap, straddling him. Her hands hovered in front of his chest, not knowing what to do. Somehow, she decided on reaching down to pull his shirt off.

He smiled, with only a hint of a smirk. "Good," he murmured.

Now her hands rested stiffly on his shoulders. He was staring right into her eyes, expectantly. Hermione knew what she was supposed to do next. But this was one of the more difficult steps.

Her heart pounded urgently. She had to do it, she knew that. Do it for Ron.

She leaned in clumsily and pressed her lips woodenly onto his. She heard him tut disapprovingly in his throat. He was unimpressed, maybe not thinking this was worth Ron's life.

She had to do this for Ron._ For Ron. … Ron…._

Malfoy was surprised by her sudden fervor. She tilted back his head with her hands and opened his mouth, slipping her tongue in and kissing him with a new passion.

It was unexpected, in the least.

Hermione blocked the reality that it was Malfoy she was kissing out of her head. He wasn't here. This was Ron. And as much as it pained her to think of Ron while kissing Malfoy, she had no other choice—she couldn't do it otherwise.

Malfoy was definitely impressed. He was more than impressed, he was incredibly turned on. He couldn't wait much longer. He leaned back, pulling her with him, and rolled so that he was on top. He'd just move this along a little faster. They'd be plenty of times to see how far she could go on her own.

Having Malfoy on top of her brought Hermione back to the cruel reality of the situation. She felt the familiar feeling of panic from the other times he'd raped her. Soon, she was trying to push him back off her.

Exasperated, Malfoy pulled back. "What now?"

"Wait," she gasped. "I'm not ready."

He scoffed. "Please, Granger. I know that you were hardly the prude with Weasley. In fact, you seemed quite experienced."

She shook her head in vague confusion. "What do you mean?"

Malfoy smirked and sat up. "That night I took Weasley's ring from you, you had quite the interesting dream about when he gave it to you."

She sat up as well, trying to wrap her head around it. "How…?"

"Legilimancy," he said, rather pleased with himself.

"I can't believe you would—"

"Violate you like that?" he mocked. He reached forward for her arm, but she jerked it away.

"Granger," he warned with the familiarly menacing look in his eyes. "You remember our agreement."

Before Hermione could think what to do one way or the other, the room around her flashed red. She and Malfoy turned their heads in the direction of the fireplace. The blaze had grown large and was spitting out violently.

"Get in the bathroom!" Malfoy demanded harshly. "Hurry!"

Hermione did what she was told, wondering why he did not follow her until she heard a familiar voice coming from the fireplace.

"Draco," the voice of Lucius Malfoy hurriedly addressed. Hermione knew that if she opened the door she would see the older Malfoy's head bobbing in the fire.

"Yes, Father," came the son's obedient answer. "What—?"

"Just be quiet and listen. I haven't much time, but this is very important."

A brief silence was most likely filled by Draco's nodded reply.

"The Dark Lord has passed on—"

Hermione's ears pricked up at this.

"He's dead?"

"Yes."

"But how—?"

Hermione had the same thoughts. Her heart was pounding from the adrenaline rush. She tilted her head toward the door, wanting to make sure to catch every word.

"Just listen. You remember how I told you about the Dark Lord's Horcruxes that Potter destroyed?"

Another nod from Draco, no doubt.

"Well, when your soul is ripped in seven and you only have one piece left, that last piece and its bond to your body becomes weak. The Dark Lord has been in bad health ever since killing Potter. He only just passed on minutes ago."

Hermione smiled. So their efforts hadn't been in vain.

"Well what are we going to do? Once it gets out that—?"

"Which is why it isn't going to get out. Wizards don't need to see him to fear him. The threat is enough. That much we have agreed on."

Hermione's mind was racing. She now knew, at least… She could tell everyone.

"The problem is that Death Eaters have begun to take sides as to who they think should take charge."

But she would have to escape first. If only she had ever found a way…

"So you must listen to me and not do anything or talk to anybody without speaking with me first. Do you understand Draco?"

She looked around the bathroom… Could she be so lucky to find something? Anything?

"Yes, Father."

Towels, soap, aftershave…

"Good. I must go before anything else happens in my absence. I'll be in touch." With that, the roar of the flames died down to a gentle crackle, signaling Lucius' farewell.

There! A straight razor. Just laying there on the counter as if specifically for her. Malfoy had never been so careless before. Had he grown arrogant? Lazy?

"Granger, you can come out now."

Hermione had less than seconds. Without another thought she tucked it into her back bra strap so that it hung by its junction.

She pulled open the door, finding Malfoy sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I assume you heard."

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"It must kill you that you now know, but can't do anything about it."

Hermione's eyebrows ticked, wondering where he was going with this.

"Never mind that." His expression changed out of his serious tone. "Come, come," he said waving his hand.

Hermione walked slowly toward him. Her right hand stiffened unconsciously, until she realized it and hoped she hadn't given herself away.

Once she was within reach, Malfoy snaked his arm around the small of her back to bring her closer. Hermione panicked, but tried to contain herself when his hand didn't travel any farther upward.

"Where were we?" He pulled her head down toward his in attempt to kiss her. Hermione let him, trying not to hold back disobediently so that he would stop to chastise her.

She tried, as carefully as possible, to reach behind her without him detecting her. Her hand closed around the handle, slowly pulling it upward from her bra strap. She paused, unsure of just when or how would be best.

_Now or never…_ a voice said in her head.

With as much speed and force as she could muster, she thrust the blade into his abdomen at an angle, first slicing with the broad side, then pushing it into his flesh through the wound.

Malfoy eyes shot open as he yelled in shock and pain. She kept pushing it into him, her only hope to distract him with the pain so that he wouldn't just over power her.

His hands wrapped around her wrist to pull her hand away and the blade out. But when he attempted to do so, she twisted the blade as he pulled on her hand so that he stopped.

"You bitch," he choked, obviously in considerable pain.

"Your wand," she demanded. "It's in the drawer?"

"Yes," he grunted.

"And the password?"

He didn't respond.

"_The password_." She twisted the blade more, causing him to yell once more. "What is it?"

He glared scornfully back, but when her wrist gave him a warning twitch, he folded.

"Sempiterna purus," he gasped.

As soon as he said it, the bed table drawer from the other side of the bed pushed out a centimeter.

Fairly copious amounts of blood were already dripping down from his gut. Malfoy had seemed to ignore this fact, yet as soon Hermione released her grip on the razor, he slumped off of the bed and onto the floor.

She hurried around to the drawer and pulled it open. It was full of parchment, assumedly important, which she pushed around until she found Malfoy's wand and her ring. Laying with them was another wand that she instantly recognized as Ron's.

She looked back towards Malfoy, who was surprisingly still on the floor, blood seeping out of him. She quickly grabbed her uniform and put it back on, careful to keep the wands trained on Malfoy's unmoving body.

At second thought, Hermione pulled a pillowcase off a pillow from the bed. She went back to the drawer, shuffling the papers into a pile, and put them into the pillowcase in case they may prove to be useful. Under the papers, was a bag of galleons, which she was grateful to find and dropped them in with the papers.

Pillowcase in hand, she returned back to stand in front of Malfoy. Sooner or later, he would be found. And when he was, he would know that she and Ron were loose, and that she knew Voldemort was dead. She couldn't risk that. It would be best if people thought she was still in Azkaban and Ron was dead. With Malfoy alive, they would have Death Eaters looking for them.

She pointed Malfoy's own wand at him. It had to be done.

…Yet she still stood there for several moments, frozen.

"Unable to kill me, Granger?"

Malfoy, who she'd thought was unconscious, lifted his head, blood dripping from his mouth.

"You just can't do it, can you?"

Hermione realized her own hand was shaking, and that perhaps he was right. She couldn't do it, despite the necessity.

Instead, muttered the incantation to tie him up—just in case—and swept out without another word to him.

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'Sempiterna purus'='forever pure' in Latin… I hope. Honestly, I claim no perfection in my online translating skills.

Also, to be technical, Voldy's soul would've have been in eight parts, including Harry, but the Death Eaters didn't know that. I suppose they probably wouldn't know about the Horcruxes either, but maybe the truth came out once Harry started going after his Horcruxes? Eh, it's my story, I'll do what I want, haha.

**Review, Please!!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Hermione's mind was still racing. What had just happened? Did this mean they were finally free?

Her feet carried her to the door of Ron's cell without her realizing it. She tapped her newly acquired wand on the door handle and it swung open.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, head in hands, was Ron, not even aware of her presence until he looked up. He stood up quickly, confused that she was gone a relatively short time and the pillowcase and wands in her hand.

"What happened?" He, too, was hesitant to accept the positive outlook of things.

"We need to leave—soon."

"But what happened with Malfoy?—"

"He's taken care of for now. I'll explain everything, but we need to go." She handed him his wand.

Ron nodded.

Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione had raided the kitchen, the linen closet, the bathroom—taking anything they thought may be useful and still carry—and had tied them securely in the blankets. Each with one blanket-turned-sack in hand, they stood in the main hall, ready to Disapparate.

Ron took Hermione's free hand and kissed it. "We're free now," he said.

And with a resounding _crack_, they were gone.

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Okay, sorry for the short, and admittedly kinda sucky chapter. Especially cause it is the last.

But the good news is that **a sequel is in the works! **….might take some time though. I haven't planned it all out yet, just some general ideas of what to include.

So, I want to thank all of you who have toughed it out & read it all. This FanFic is my baby. I've had a fair amount of the plot in my head since before the 7th book was out. So finally getting it out feels like quite the personal accomplishment.

**And one last plea for REVIEWS! **What did you think of the overall plot? Do you hate that Draco was 100% evil? Do you hate me for putting in Ron & making it a RHr romance? Do you love RHr as much as me? Did you find the story too dark? Or did you love the angst? Thought the ending was cliché? Or a cop-out? I like hearing what peopel think!


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